


The King of Hearts

by Aeriel



Category: Dangerous Liaisons (1988)
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Humiliation, Misses Clause Challenge, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was, as Cecile was to learn, a crucial difference between liking men and desiring them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgrrl/gifts).



> A/N: I hope you're all right with my including bits of canon from the novel that didn't contradict the film! I also want to make very clear that I view Valmont and Cecile's first sexual encounter in the film as rape, regardless of what I've written Cecile thinking about the matter.
> 
> Edit the second: How did I miss the 'gift this work to' button, exactly? *facepalm*

 

 

 

Cecile did not understand men.

 

It was not, she thought, a fault to be particularly ashamed of- after all, until very recently the only men she had known were priests and her dear departed papa (whom she could barely remember). The nuns at school didn't seem to understand men, nor did her best friend Sophie Carnay, and certainly her mama did not. 

 

Poor Maman seemed outright frightened of Monsieur le Vicomte de Valmont in particular: and so Cecile had been frightened too, when she first met him (it took quite a lot to scare Maman). Except that it was a different kind of fear than she had experienced before; not at all like waiting to be scolded by Mother Perpetue or seeing a rat. It was almost... exhilarating. 

 

Not like Chevalier Danceny. No one could be frightened of him! He was so unassuming, like a big puppy. Cecile thought it would be quite nice and safe to be married to him. Even Maman wasn't afraid of Danceny- she didn't precisely like him, but clearly whatever it was that put her on edge when Valmont was around was not a concern with Cecile's former music teacher. Sometimes, Cecile thought he had been sent away purely to spite her. Maman was never very obliging when it came to Cecile's friends. Madame la Marquise de Merteuil was the only one she was allowed to see (and sometimes Cecile thought if the Marquise had not been her aunt, Maman would have disapproved of her as well).

 

But Cecile couldn't help but go on thinking about Valmont. Maman said he ruined ladies' reputations. Was it so very bad to have a ruined reputation? She couldn't go out on her own as it was. Perhaps if Cecile was ruined, her mother would stop being so horribly nosy and let her spend her time as she chose. Of course, then Danceny might stop being in love with her, and that wouldn't do at all!

 

Then again, Danceny trusted Valmont. He confided in him, even, just as Cecile did in Madame de Merteuil. And Madame de Merteuil did not seem to fear the Vicomte in the least.

 

There was something not quite right, between the man described by Danceny and Madame, and the man she knew. Cecile could have sworn that the first time they met, he had tried to touch her inappropriately. Perhaps it was an accident? He had certainly been gazing at her breasts in a way that made her feel like a roast goose. 

 

No, it was no accident, Cecile knew now. He had been too rough the first time- like a man staking a claim on something he had had his eye on for some time.  
  
What could she have done to lead him on in such a way? Surely, she had been quite clear that he was only allowed into her room to deliver letters from Danceny.  
  
(Had he delivered Danceny to her room in such a way, would she have been quite so resistant? Would Danceny have done the same, given the chance?)  
  
Like it or not, she was that kind of woman now. It seemed odd that her reputation was perfectly intact, yet she knew things about the desires of men that no unmarried woman should ever know.  
  
And the desires of men were so very strange! She had been sick the first time Valmont expended himself in her mouth (and that was after she accidentally grazed him with her teeth, at which point he smacked the side of her face as if he were training an animal, and told her never to do that again). Cecile still didn't particularly enjoy the act (though she never used teeth, and she was no longer sick, since he had explained she could spit afterwards), but in an odd way it was the lack of enjoyment that came to please her. Knowing there were acts she could perform for the sole reason of pleasing him was interestingly pleasing in and of itself.  
  
It was just as well Cecile enjoyed being used, for there was such a variety of uses that Valmont had for her. He explained that he was only furthering her education by demonstrating what future husbands and lovers would expect of her, but sometimes Cecile thought that Danceny, at least, would not have the imagination to suggest as many ideas as Valmont had. Surely there must be men as clueless as women in the ways of the bedroom-- even if there were a book of instructions somewhere, not everyone could read!  
  
"Bastide is an educated man, my dear," Valmont would say. "I assure you such matters would not make him flinch. Do you want to disappoint your future husband?"

It was only for Madame de Merteuil that she didn't protest. Madame was her dearest friend, the only one who she could talk to, really talk to about these things, and Madame had been very clear on that the only way for Cecile to live the life she wanted was to marry Monsieur de Bastide (a man she'd yet to meet, and everyone but Maman seemed to think was odious). And it was true enough that if she had to marry Bastide, she would rather him be pleased with her than be ashamed.

Madame did seem to know things that no one else should.  
  
"Have you ever been with Madame?" she asked Valmont thoughtlessly one night after he was untying her from a bedpost.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
She realized she had not been specific enough. "Madame de Merteuil, I mean. You seem so fond of her that-"  
  
"No," he cut her off, sharply. "Never." His anger went as quickly as it had arrived. "We're dear old friends. Whatever would cause you to think such a thing?"  
  
"You said you had been with Maman," Cecile mumbled, sitting down gingerly so as not to disturb the source of her sensitivity. "And I know Madame has lovers-"  
  
"Lovers?" Valmont laughed. "I'm sure you must be thinking of someone else."  
  
"But I was sure-"  
  
"You misunderstood, I'm sure. The Marquise is a respectable widow. And a relative of yours besides, whom I should think you wouldn't want to slander."  
  
"I would never want to hurt Madame!" cried Cecile.  
  
"Then it is settled, is it not?"  
  
Talking to Valmont always made her feel so terribly stupid. He hardly ever let her finish a sentence. She would resent it very much if he didn't do such delightful things when she stayed obligingly silent. Not that he ever did the same. Monsieur de Valmont took his role as teacher extremely seriously.

"Tonight," he said, "we are going to try something new. Kneel."

"On the floor?"

"Of course not. On the bed, hands in front of you."

Understanding dawning, Cecile complied. They had ended up in this position before, so she wasn't quite sure what Valmont meant by "new", but she had learned it was better not to ask too many questions.

"Ouch!" she squealed in distress as something slippery and cold was pushed into her maidenhead.

"Now, now, this will only be uncomfortable for a short while. Be patient, and keep it inside."

Next she felt the familiar tightening of restraints around her ankles, and for this Cecile was indeed silent. But when Valmont proceeded to massage her buttocks, she could not help but let out a small impatient noise.

Valmont slapped her across the bottom. "No sulking."

Once she had submitted fully, it was always pleasant. After the introduction of his tongue to her bumhole, Cecile was more than willing to allow his phallus to occupy the same space. And once she was tingly and damp between her legs, the foreign object inside ceased to be an annoyance, and became something she could clench around enjoyably.

"You.. delicious... little... whore," Valmont panted as he slammed inside her again and again. "Randy, naughty cunt-"

The multitude of sensations she was experiencing became too much, and Cecile wailed as she reached the peak of her arousal.

While resting, Cecile noticed something odd. "Are those... carved artichokes, over there?"

Valmont laughed derisively. "And what do you think was inside you?"

 *     *    *

"Cecile, are you feeling quite all right?" Madame de Tourvel said unexpectedly at breakfast that morning. Not that the two had never spoken, but it had been principally on the subject of convents and religion, and how one's upbringing could affect one's belief in God, and such.

"I-" Valmont caught her eye and frowned, "I'm just tired, Madame."

  
"It seems to me that you were never tired when we first met, but are now yawning at every meal," Tourvel pressed on, apparently unaware of the sudden viciousness with which Valmont was attacking his capers. "Surely, something has changed?"

Madame de Rosemonde came to her rescue. "My dear, young people stay awake so late these days. And I understand that the Marquise de Merteuil has taught Mademoiselle Volanges to play piquet."

"That would explain it," Maman said brightly.

"I suppose," Madame de Tourvel said hesitantly. She did look at Valmont then, who gave her an innocent smile in return. "I want you to know that you can always speak to me, if you're having trouble adjusting to life in the outside world. As I know from personal experience, the transition can be... overwhelming."

"What a generous offer!" exclaimed Valmont.

"Thank you, Monsieur, but I did not make it for your approval," Tourvel replied crisply.

Given how much time the two of them spent in each others company, deep in conversation, Cecile was somewhat doubtful of that.

 The next course arrived.

"I do hope Madame enjoys artichoke hearts." Valmont smirked.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to chezjim.com for providing me with fantastically detailed citated notes on the subject of meals in eighteenth century France (and speculations on the times wherein breakfast would have taken place for the upper class), historicromance.wordpress.com for some invaluable euphemisms and details on undergarments (or the lack thereof) that I've used before for this fandom but regrettably forgotten to credit. All historical inaccuracies are my own.


End file.
